Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2017
Four figure eights,
Only on the edge, never straight,
Slowly swimming into madness,
Calmly chaotic, never sedate.
Frantic fingers, fumbling for a fix,
For without it, we're ever anxious
stay in school, if you want to, loser.
david mitchell
Written by
david mitchell  24
(24)   
320
   hello poet
Please log in to view and add comments on poems